


Anything At All Or Nothing At All

by aurelie_saintjuste



Category: Star Wars: A New Dawn - John Jackson Miller, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Brief mention of sexual slavery, Dirty Talk, F/M, I Still Have No Idea What A Plot Is So Here Is Some Literal Porn, Kanera Week 2020, Lingerie, Oral Sex, Pre-Rebels, Sexual Intercourse, Trust Issues, kanera - Freeform, post-A New Dawn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26295103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurelie_saintjuste/pseuds/aurelie_saintjuste
Summary: Hera picks up something extra on a supply run.
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 19
Kudos: 81
Collections: Kanera Week 2020





	Anything At All Or Nothing At All

Hera stares at the neatly wrapped, innocuous package sitting on the shelf in her cabin and she can practically hear her father’s lecture drumming in her mind. 

It’s not as if she isn’t completely aware of the way Twi’lek women were viewed and treated across the galaxy. They were the subject of every easy, disgusting joke in every cantina in every system. Hera herself has overheard most of the more vulgar, but less creative commentary about her people on some recon missions, and the danger that came with traveling alone across the Outer Rim as a young, attractive female Twi’lek has only made Hera a sharper shot, a more competent fighter, and a far more discreet agent for her cause. Hera is acutely aware that she is a prime candidate to be swept into the slavery that still plagues the people of her world, and she would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that such a fate often weighed heavily on her mind.

Which is why Cham Syndulla would be absolutely furious to know that his daughter has opened not only her freighter but her bed to a human male, a recently reformed drifter with a drinking problem and a liberal trigger finger. Hera is still parsing out whether her father would be more or less furious that said human male is _a Jedi_ of all things, but she’s pretty sure that the fact that she’s bedding Kanan Jarrus with some regularity would decidedly not tip the scales in his favor. Hera is _smarter_ than that, or, by her father’s belief, she certainly should be.

And sure, Hera rationalizes, her relationship with her father is… well, _strained_ at best, nonexistent at worst. But the Liberator of Ryloth is still her father, and no matter what she thinks of his fanaticism and questionable fathering skills, she can’t help but think that he’d probably have a full on aneurism to know that on their last supply run, Hera discreetly palmed some credits on the counter to buy something to share with Kanan. Something that she is usually far too practical for, and something that she hopes won’t completely play into those easy, disgusting cantina jokes. 

Hera is better than that.

\--

There’s some fine tuning to be done to the _Phantom_ , and Kanan is taking his time with it. Hera is still learning to trust her Jedi with her precious ship, but she knows that Kanan is fully capable of the repairs. She grabs the small, neatly wrapped package and slides into the ‘fresher to further investigate her purchase. 

It seems to her now that she spent an awful lot of credits for so little fabric. 

_Maybe it’s the nerves._

Hera intended for the purchase to be a complete surprise, something that she knew Kanan would get a kick out of. They’re still learning each other’s preferences, but Hera knew from practically the moment she crossed paths with him on Gorse that Kanan Jarrus is an overwhelmingly visual creature. Their still-fresh physical relationship has only confirmed this fact. 

‘ _Visual’ this promised to be._

Then there’s the part of Hera that is young, but not naive, that knows that Kanan has fucked women (and probably some men) across the galaxy. Hera wants to stand out amongst those shadows from his past, and not just because she is invested in him staying aboard the _Ghost_ for her own reasons, but because she can tell that Kanan has a lot of healing to do. She believes - she wants to believe, anyway - that she can have a hand in that.

So she unwraps the two filmy garments that appear to be more strap than fabric. They’re a far cry from the basics Hera normally wears under her flight suit, but the promise of both surprising Kanan in a set of lingerie imported from Coruscant sends a thrill through her. 

Hera unfastens her armor, shucks flight suit and half unbuttons her blouse to pull it over her head. She strips her basics, draws a steadying breath, and gingerly steps into the delicate black panties, a small triangle of mesh offers her the least modesty in any garment she’s ever seen. Three black straps span her hips in an attractive pattern that compliments her green skin. She turns experimentally in the narrow ‘fresher to see the back in the mirror. There’s precious little to see, save the same three straps crossing the small of her back and one that has disappeared into the cleft of her ass. She can feel the flush creep into her lekku and warm her face. This was… perhaps more than she bargained for.

_Only for Kanan._

The black lace bra, a generous term, just barely covers her nipples. The same three-strapped pattern criss-crosses the valley between her breasts and created an effect across her decolletage that reminded her of the cages she’s seen exotic birds sold in at marketplaces. 

Hera sucks in a breath at the connotation.

She’s _not_ being sold.

Kanan _would never._

For a moment, the whole thing suddenly feels incredibly naive, stupid and dangerous. Hera stares at herself for a long moment in the small mirror in the ‘fresher. It’s not too late to throw the strips of fabric back in her cabin, eat the loss of credits, forget the whole thing, and simply go join Kanan in the _Phantom_ to work on repairs. Hera drums her fingers on the sink, staring at her half-naked reflection with her lower lip caught between her teeth as she weighs her options. 

She’s fighting to free the women of her world from exactly the type of situation she’s just willingly put herself into.

On the other hand, Kanan Jarrus is no slaver. Sure, he might not fully embrace it, but Kanan is a Jedi, a protector. In the short span of months they’ve unified as a team, he has shared some of his most dangerous, most desperate secrets, not to mention saving her from being crushed under a chunk of a starship.

Maybe there’s something empowering about the Coruscanti lace when she has a say in wearing it, for an exclusive audience that she chooses, that she _cares_ for.

Hera reaches for her blouse and pulls it over her head. She steps into the loose orange pants of her flight suit, which feels different over the lingerie. She stares at herself in the mirror for one more long moment as she tucks the half-buttoned blouse into the waistband and pulls on her boots. 

She doesn’t bother retrieving her armor, her cap or discarded basics from the ‘fresher floor before making her way to the _Phantom_ and Kanan.

\--

Kanan has removed the panel from under the console and is muttering something about cabling into the guts of her ship when Hera climbs the ladder into the _Phantom_. She smiles fondly at what she can see of him - one hand blindly groping the area around him to try to find his hydrospanner, which he’s nowhere near, and a surprising amount of his upper body hidden in the small, cramped space under the console working on the repair. She braces her feet against the ladder and leans back against the open hatch, arms crossed over her chest and a smile playing on her lips. 

_Why is she nervous?_

“More to the left,” she offers helpfully, trying to guide his search for the offending tool.

Kanan practically jumps at the sound of her voice, narrowly avoiding colliding his head with the frame of the open panel. “Good timing,” he huffs by way of greeting, sliding out from the narrow space, “I need those small hands of yours.” 

Hera narrows her eyes at him, “The line between seedy-cantina-pickup-line and actual-request-for-help is starting to get grayer and grayer,” she comments flatly, but the smile playing at her lips doesn’t waver. Kanan pushes himself to his feet and stretches before stepping down to the hatch and offering her a hand up. 

“Not even a bad pickup line this time, I really can’t reach that bundle of wires,” he clarifies, as he pulls her into the ship. He raises an eyebrow suggestively, “Unless, of course, you want it to be a bad pickup line.” 

Hera rolls her eyes but doesn’t drop his hand. “I think we’re past the bad pickup lines, at this point we just cut to the chase.” 

She can feel his eyes taking in the marked difference in her otherwise usual appearance - no cap or goggles, blouse only half done up and no armor. There’s a meaningful pause before Kanan fills her personal space, his hands lightly resting on her hips. 

“Are you inviting me to cut to the chase, or are we going to finish this repair together?” 

Hera slides her arms around his shoulders and presses a light, gentle kiss to his mouth. “I suppose you’ve earned a break,” she smiles.

“What kind of operation are you running here, captain?” Kanan asks with mock incredulousness, pulling back only slightly in the circle of her arms to eye her a little more closely. Kanan’s only been aboard her ship for a handful of months but he knows her well enough to know that she’s interrupted him with a plan. “More important question - _what are you up to_?”

She shrugs coyly, tamping her nerves down one last time as she offers, “I got something on our supply run. From Coruscant.” 

Kanan lifts his fingers under her chin, raises her gaze to his. “All sorts of things come from Coruscant,” he rumbles, playing into her act and trailing the callused pad of his thumb across her lower lip. The touch makes Hera shudder, and Kanan uses the opportunity to pull her closer to his body, his large hand at the small of her back. “What did you find?” 

Her lips press a kiss into his trailing thumb, and she locks her jade eyes on his. Hera wills her fingers to not tremble as she loosens her blouse from her waistband, and the corners of Kanan’s mouth start to lift in a dark smile. Like ripping off a bacta strip before her nerve runs out, she pulls the blouse over her head and lets it fall to the floor, and she can feel the warmth creeping into her cheeks and climbing her lekku as the weight of Kanan’s gaze settles on her. 

Kanan’s hands fall to his sides, his fingers flexing and curling like he’s willing all of his strength to not reach out and touch her flushed skin, but the rest of his body has gone still. His mouth opens once like he wants to say something, but anything in Basic seems like it could be a stretch. Still though, it seems like he might try for something coherent when he swallows hard and manages to murmur her name so softly, so _reverently_ that Hera’s not sure if he’s actually said it or it was her imagination. 

Kanan has seen her naked more often than she ever expected at this point in their time together, and yet somehow part of her feels more vulnerable, standing there in the _Phantom_ half-clothed, than any of those times. The other part of her surges with delight at how completely stunned she has managed to render Kanan Jarrus.

Her Jedi is still trying to find words and seems to be on the verge of giving up when one hand reaches to gently trace the black satin straps criss-crossing her well displayed cleavage. The other snakes behind the small of her back and pulls her close, his hand warm against her naked flesh. Her eyes meet his half-hooded gaze, his blue-green darker than she’s ever seen them before. A smile plays at her lips and the nerves have burned off into excitement, thrill and maybe even a little bit of power as she realizes that this surprise has truly caught him off guard. 

“Do you like it?” she asks, her voice deep and rich. Kanan huffs out a low laugh and pulls her completely against his broad chest in a fierce embrace, the knit of his sweater scratches against her exposed and hypersensitive flesh. He dips his mouth close to her earcone and his voice is thick with desire.

“Is there more?”

_Greedy._

Hera rolls her eyes but her smile doesn’t fade as she pushes him back without breaking her eye contact. She tugs off her boots and deftly frees the mesh belt from her flight suit pants and shoves them down her legs. 

“If by _more_ you mean _less_ ,” she shrugs, a little shiver tearing through her as she stands in the middle of her ship clad only in the two small black garments. Like lightning, Kanan has her pressed up against the wall of the ship and has captured her mouth in a searing kiss, one hand flat against the wall near her head braces his body and the other caresses her cheek. Hera’s fingers frantically fly to his chest to release the strap of his pauldron and armor, letting them clatter to the ground noisily before seeking to free him from the double layers of his shirts. 

The task of undressing Kanan becomes more challenging as his hand skims from her cheek down her throat, his long fingers trailing down her collarbone and to once again explore the cage of straps across her chest. He palms the weight of her right breast through the lacy material, his thumb tracing featherlight circles over her the stiffening peak of her nipple, and Hera lets out a soft gasp against his mouth, her fingers still at his belt.

Her little noise of pleasure pulls his lips into a smirk that Hera can only describe as dangerous. Kanan breaks his mouth away from hers with a gentle bite of her lower lip before pulling back to admire her against the bulkhead of the ship. 

“We’re in for some very distracting flights now that I know this could be under your flight suit, captain,” he rumbles, his hand never stilling at her breast, the feel of the lace separating her sensitive skin from his warm fingers creates a new level of sensation for Hera. Before she has time to respond to the _ridiculous_ notion that she would make wearing this part of a normal routine, Kanan’s mouth replaces his fingers at her breast, the wet, warm heat of his tongue laving and sucking at her skin through the fabric. 

Were it not for his free hand moving to the small of her back and dipping lower to cup her fully exposed ass, Hera is sure she would have melted into the grates in the floor. She arches her spine against him, sliding her arms around his neck and tossing her head back against the wall of the ship. Her eyes flutter shut to fully focus on the move of Kanan’s mouth, the squeeze of his hand at her rear.

Okay, maybe she _would_ surprise him every now and again with this under her orange-and-gray if it meant they could do _this_.

Hera has all but given up on freeing him from his pants, a task her overstimulated brain has all but forgotten about until he slides one knee between her legs. She twines the fingers of one hand through his hair, nails scratching lightly at the scalp, starting at his sideburns and raking through to the band securing his ponytail in place. A gentle tug and the tie slides free, but Hera’s fingers tangle into the strands at the nape of his neck, holding his head in place as his mouth continues to suck and nip at her breast.

The sensations come fast - the cool, recycled air in the ship prickles at her skin, which simultaneously burns where Kanan’s mouth and fingers and hands explore her body. Her heart is racing and she can feel that familiar coil, that bubbling warmth pooling low in her stomach, and it’s dizzying. She wants more - more of his mouth, more of his hands, more of _him_ exploring her body. Hera’s hips cant against his thigh, the delicious friction of his trousers against the thin triangle of fabric between her legs sends sparks through her, and a low groan escapes her lips.

Enough. She wants to be in control.

Hera pulls carefully at the soft hair woven between her fingers, enough to pull his attention away from the mark he’s become so intent on leaving at the swell of her breast. His eyes, dark with desire, raise to meet hers, and he straightens himself up to his full height. Hera’s hands raise to cradle his face, her thumbs stroking gently at his cheekbones. He is so handsome, and it takes a lot of restraint and a steadying breath against his mouth to kiss him gently, more controlled than she feels. Kanan’s fingers tighten around her hips at the press of her mouth to his. He attempts to deepen the kiss, first nipping gently at her bottom lip, she can feel the bite of his teeth all the way to her nerve endings, but she does not yield. He tries again with a slide of his tongue against the seam of her mouth, and Hera just smiles against him, cutting off his attempt with a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. She can tell Kanan is starting to get frustrated, his fingers begin to trace and dip into the black straps that span her hips. Her hands skate down his neck, sliding down his shoulders, biceps, forearms, before they settle at his wrists, her small hands encircling them. She’ll cut him off from that movement, too. 

_She_ is in control.

Hera can’t deny that Kanan is physically stronger than her, but she knows that he won’t fight her in this dance. Her suspicions are confirmed when she tightens her fingers around his wrists and deftly reverses their positions, pressing him against the bulkhead and pinning his wrists to his sides. He huffs a laugh, a smile playing on his lips that causes Hera’s heart to beat a little faster, even as she tentatively drops one hand from pinning his wrist to start freeing his belt and straps of his holster.  
  
“Single minded and focused on her mission as ever.” Kanan says around a groan when the fingers of her free hand trace his stiff erection through his pants. His holster and belt are finally liberated at her hands, and clatter to the durasteel grating at their feet. Hera dances her fingertips lightly up his stomach, following the trail of hair up his chest, skimming the hollow of his throat before resting them on his mouth. Kanan shudders under her touch, but Hera is pleased to see he doesn’t move against the firm grip of her hand or the crowding of her body against his.

“Stop talking,” she says close to his ear in the rich tone she knows he loves, and taps his lips with her index finger for emphasis. “And I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”   
  


Kanan agrees to her terms with a low rumble of approval in his chest, submitting to her with a sigh and his eyes fluttering closed. He’s rewarded with the warm press of her lips against his jaw, her free hand sliding back down to capture his wrist at his side. She can feel his fingers flex and curl, and she takes delight in knowing that he’s probably itching to touch her skin. She shares that goal, but there is something vulnerable, something beautiful about seeing Kanan trust her with his pleasure and Hera isn’t one to squander an opportunity. 

Hera’s mouth continues to trail kisses up his jaw, towards the hinge before coming close to his ear. Early in their relationship, during a particularly illuminating and heated make out session in the cockpit, Hera learned all sorts of creative places to kiss, lick or suck across the brown swaths of Kanan’s body. The place that Hera reveled in the most - due undoubtedly in part to his affinity to her voice - was the sensitive skin around his ear and the hinge of his strong jaw.

  
“I thought,” she muses in her silkiest voice at the shell of his ear, “that maybe,” she punctuates her words with a swirl of her pink tongue at his earlobe, “we might fuck,” and she presses her hips against his for emphasis, her fingers tight around his wrists, “somewhere different tonight.” 

Kanan’s whole body tenses and he all but whines at her ministrations. Hera grins wickedly and licks the shell of his ear before pulling back to take in the furrow of his brow and his parted lips, trying his hardest to concentrate to keep himself standing. Hera wonders idly if he’s gone so far as to call on the Force to keep himself in check. If he has, she has a new resolve to see what she can do against that invisible web, that power that both connects and grounds him to the world around him. She’s up for the task. 

“Let me touch you,” he grinds out. He could so easily free his own hands, but his dedication to her game keeps him well in place. 

“Not yet,” Hera says, “I’m going to drop your wrists, but trust me, you’ll have your turn.” 

Kanan swallows hard and nods, his hair framing his face and brushing his shoulders in a way that momentarily knocks the air from her lungs. True to his word, he keeps his hands at his sides when Hera drops his wrists. She cradles his face between her two small hands, rewarding him with a chaste kiss, her soft lips only barely brushing his. Hera’s body is flush against his, and she can feel his body tense with the desire to move, to act, to take her in his arms and stroke her with his fingers, but he doesn’t move.

Hera catches her lower lip between her teeth around a grin, and the fingers of one hand travel down his neck, traversing his chest before stopping where the fabric at the placket of his pants strains over his erection. She palms him gently, and the touch is enough to elicit a soft hiss from between his teeth. His hands are flexing at his sides again, and she can feel the itch, the desire and urgency he must feel to explore her warm skin.

She drops to her knees between his slightly spread legs and sets to work unfastening and freeing him from his boots. Her jade eyes lock on his concentrated face - Hera has memorized and mapped every handsome feature on that face, but without a doubt this countenance of focus is her favorite of his expressions as he’s caught somewhere between taking in the scene of a mostly-naked Twi’lek between his legs and imagining what a mostly-naked Twi’lek might _accomplish_ between his legs. 

She won’t make him wait to find out much longer. 

Hera reaches up and makes short work of the buttons at the front of his pants, peeling them down his muscular legs to his ankles, where she taps each ankle to indicate that he should step out of them. Their clothes are littered across the narrow expanse of the _Phantom_ , and Hera reaches out for his sweater to fold under her knees. Hera’s palms smooth up his legs until her fingers stop at the waistband of his basics, the last shred of clothes separating her from her prize. 

Kanan can’t seem to still his hands at his sides, and he reaches out to palm her cheek. Her eyes close and she leans into the warmth of his touch, pressing a soft kiss to the heel of his hand. His fingers stroke her cheekbone and he murmurs her name.

Her fingertips skim the waistband of the black shorts, dancing through the soft, fine hair across his stomach. From her place between his legs, Hera can see his fingers curl into tight fists, anticipating what she is sure he knows comes next and a sly smile plays at her mouth as she rolls the waistband down and his thick erection bobs free.

His mouth drops in a shuddering sigh as his head tilts back against the bulkhead. Hera wishes he’d reward her with that smoldering teal gaze locked on her, and she resolves to earn that heated look as she curls the fingers of one hand around the base of his cock, the other gently cupping his balls. Kanan hisses as she tentatively pumps her fist the length of him, her thumb swirling at the pearlescent precome that has gathered in the slit of his cock.

She leans in heavily to what she knows Kanan loves the most; her voice. 

“Would you like for me to suck you off, Kanan?” she purrs, her mouth close to his cock, and her fist never stops its steady rhythm. “I will, if you promise not to come - not here, anyway, you’ll have your chance to--” 

“ _Hera_ ,” he growls out. His palm has slid from her cheek to the base of her lek, the sensation sears through her skin. She shudders against it. 

“Is that a ‘yes’?” 

He chokes out a laugh, and he bobs a quick nod. 

“I can’t hear a nod, Kanan.” 

“ _Yes_ , Hera,” he hisses between his teeth, his hips bucking slightly into her working hands. 

Hera huffs a breathy laugh, and her palm gently, ever so carefully squeezes at his balls, her tongue flat at the underside of his cock starts at the base and makes its way to the leaking tip. Kanan practically whines and his hand slides down her flushed lek, catching the tapered tip gently in his fingers, his thumb swirling at the ultra-sensitive end. 

She shivers with pleasure as her tongue swirls around the engorged head of his erection, the salty-sweet taste of him familiar in her mouth. She repeats the action, her tongue starting at the thatch of wiry curls at his groin and trailing up the underside of his cock before closing her lips around him, her fingers curled around the base of his sex as she dips her mouth lower. 

He makes a sound somewhere between a choke and a sob, and the sound of his pleasure burns through to her core. Her hand drops from cradling him, and travels lightly down his thigh, before her fingers slip between her own legs. The small triangle of lacy black fabric is wet with her own arousal, and she manages to set a pace with her mouth and one hand at his cock and the fingers of the other hand circling gently at herself over the skimpy garment. 

Kanan rewards her with that dark gaze, his half-lidded eyes burn with an intensity, a desire that makes the entire endeavour of procuring this ensemble completely worthwhile.

His fingers have stilled at her lek, and she can see the muscles of his core and legs start to tighten. He must be coming close, and this isn’t the way Hera wants him to come undone.

“Are you close, Kanan?” she asks, pressing a kiss to the tip of him as her fist stills around his erection.

In response, Kanan reaches to pull her up. Before she can lean into dip a kiss to his mouth, he has scooped her up into his arms, and Hera doesn’t try to fight him. Instead she links her arms around his neck, pressing heated kisses into his collarbone, his shoulder, wherever her lips can reach, alternating between featherlight kisses and sharp nips of her teeth as she settles into the steady strength of his arms. He must be achingly hard, and Hera is eager to see - and willing to yield to - whatever plan he has for her. 

He stops at the row of folded jump seats and drops her carefully, nodding for her to take a seat. A thrill electrifies every nerve ending in her body, her lekku curling at the possibilities of whatever scenario Kanan’s imagination has dreamt up. There are already so many places on her ship she can’t look at without a flush burning at her cheeks, and it would appear that the entirety of the _Phantom_ was about to top that list. 

Hera sinks into a seat, and stares up at him, her fingers trailing down the center of his chest as he drops to his knees in front of her, leaning forward so his mouth captures hers in a chaotic crash of teeth and tongue. She curls her fingers into the hair at the base of his skull, her tongue plunging deeper into his mouth, and Kanan’s hands settle at her knees, gently pushing them apart.

She pulls back slightly to admire the warm pink flush of his cheeks, his breath coming in quick gasps. His eyes rake over her body with such a hunger, she’s sure she can feel the physical weight of it. She drops her hands from the soft strands of his hair and her index finger traces at his soft lower lip and down through the coarse hairs of his goatee, lifting his chin to her gaze. Her heart swells with affection and admiration of this handsome, rogue Jedi between her knees, and she’s grateful every day to have been thrown to the far reaches of the galaxy to stumble across his path. 

Hera’s lips ghost his forehead, and his eyes close at the tenderness of her kiss, his hands skating up her thighs to stop at her hips.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his teal eyes full of fondness. His fingers trace the straps of her panties and his mouth trails heated kisses down her neck, and Hera lolls her head to the side to give him better access to the column of her throat. His mouth dips lower, kissing the exposed skin between the straps of her bra, between the valley of her breasts and down the soft skin of her flat stomach before stopping at the triangle of lace. 

“But you’re still wearing too much.” 

A small gasp escapes her lips when the soft press of his kisses turns into a sharp nip of teeth, and her heart races when she looks down between her legs to find that Kanan has caught the strap of her panties between his perfect teeth. She wants to laugh at how completely ridiculous and indulgent the whole scene is, but her overstimulated mind can’t get past the eroticism of it all, the fact that Kanan seems to have some expertise in this. Instead, as if she’d flip a switch for the _Ghost_ to operate on auto pilot, Hera’s mind does the same, and she lifts her hips, scooting closer to the edge of the seat, allowing him to free her from the lingerie with his teeth and mouth. 

She doesn’t take her eyes off of him when he pulls the fabric from her and loops it around his wrist like a perverse trophy. He grins at her and she can’t help but huff out a laugh which rapidly dissolves into a soft moan as his tongue retraces where his fingers and mouth have just been, licking a stripe up her inner thigh before flattening against the slick folds of her sex.

“Kanan!” she shouts, one hand instinctively slipping behind his head to hold him in place, the other curling tightly around the unyielding durasteel edge of the jump seat. The vibrations of his laugh against her make her shudder, and she throws her head back against the back of the seat, her spine arching as his tongue begins to explore her in earnest. 

Kanan’s tongue dips between her slick folds before his mouth closes around the tight bundle of nerves at her core. He circles her clit with his tongue, sucking gently at her and she can’t help but whimper at the steady cadence he sets. Kanan’s fingers dance along her thigh and tease at her entrance. She’s slick enough that, with ease, he can slide two fingers into her tight channel, and Hera cries out at the overstimulation, the feeling of fullness.

Hera squeezes her eyes shut, pleasure pulsing through her veins as Kanan’s fingers shallowly thrust into her, his tongue circling and suckling endlessly at her. She catches her lower lip in her teeth, her chest heaving as she tries to hold off the impending release. 

“Kanan… I…” words are hard as her mind tries to make sense of the man between her legs, his hair in her fist, the cool durasteel at her back, the relentless attention from his warm, wet tongue. “ _Kanan_.”

“What’s the matter, Hera?” He teases, his tongue pauses for a moment, looking up at her even as his fingers keep their pace. She only barely registers that his free hand has curled around his cock and is languidly tugging at it in time with the thrusting of his fingers. “Something on your mind?” 

Hera closes her eyes, and arches more deeply into him as her fingers curl into a tighter fist in his hair. 

“Are you ready to come, Hera?”

She nods furiously, her eyes still shut against the pleasure, and Kanan laps briefly at her with a flat tongue before stilling his hand.

“I can’t hear a nod, Captain.” 

It takes all of her self control to not kick him as he uses her own words against her, but she swallows hard and laughs her rich laugh, hoping her voice won’t waver - 

“I… I want you to make me… make me come, love,” she starts, gratified to hear that her voice quivers only a little, “But I want you in this seat under me, I want to be in your lap, I want that cock inside me, _I want to ride you Kanan_. I want to come on your lap, with your cock and your fingers.” 

Kanan gapes a moment, apparently calculating the potential with a momentarily short-circuited brain, and with a speed Hera is positive is bolstered by the Force, he loops an arm around her waist and slides underneath her, situating her on his lap. Hera’s legs straddle his, her back pressed against his flushed, broad chest. Kanan lines himself up to her slick entrance, and Hera sinks down onto him, a sharp cry escaping her lips as she takes him inch by inch.

“F-fuck,” Kanan hisses, one hand splayed at her stomach. His arm crosses her shoulders, holding her close to him. Hera’s eyes slam shut as he bottoms out inside her, the feeling of fullness all-encompassing. She braces herself with her palms against his thighs, her head leans back against his shoulder. His mouth is close to her earcone.

“Roll your hips,” he says, his voice edged with desperation.

She obliges, and the whine that passes her lips is met with a groan from his. She does it again, attempting to set a slow, burning pace as his hand dips a little lower, his thumb replacing where his mouth had earlier lavished her clit with attention. He circles it slowly to start, but as the roll of Hera’s hips takes on new speed, so too does his thumb.

She was already close, but the feeling of falling over the edge of pleasure becomes all encompassing, and it won’t take much more for her to give in. 

“Hera,” he grinds out, and his gravelly voice against her earcone is too much. She whimpers again. “Hera you’re close, I can tell… I want you to…. _Fuck!..._ I want you to come.”

She hardly needs his permission, she is so close, but she nods, her hips still rolling against him, sinking as deeply as she can, impaling herself on his cock. Kanan’s hips meet hers with every movement. His thumb circles more insistently and Hera cries out as the pleasure in her core spills, a warmth of release surging through her muscles and the overwhelming moment between laughter and sobs shakes her blissed out body.

Hera is dimly aware of a feral cry of release mere moments after her, their pace broken, the feeling of fullness amplified by his throbbing cock and the heat of his release inside of her. His thumb slows, but continues to stroke her gently as she rides the waves of release against his own. Hera sinks back bonelessly against him, his arms curled protectively around her from behind, and the rapid rise and fall of his chest behind her back lulls her back to the reality of her surroundings. Kanan’s forehead is pressed against her shoulder, the length of his soft hair tickling her skin and his mouth dropping soft kisses at the skin of her back. 

She heaves a contented sigh, but yearns for more skin on skin contact. Gingerly, she lifts her hips, freeing his softening cock from her. The jump seats of the _Phantom_ really aren’t meant for cuddling, but they have managed to make it work in far tighter spaces aboard her ship, and this will be no exception. She faces him, straddling her knees precariously on either side of his hips, and presses her chest against his, burying her face in his neck. Kanan wraps his strong arms around her again, the strings of her flimsy panties still looped around his wrist and his fingers tracing soothing circles along her spine.

“I almost didn’t do it,” she admits softly, once she’s sure that reason has returned to her. It seems odd to ruin their post-orgasm bliss with a heavy dose of reality, but this - _he_ \- means something to her, something real and worthy, and she feels the need to be honest and vulnerable, even if just for a moment.

“Do what?” he asks.

“Twi’lek women are prizes across the galaxy,” she says, and she’s momentarily surprised at how small her voice is. She gestures to the black criss-cross of straps at her lace-covered cleavage, “I almost didn’t do this.”

Kanan says nothing for a moment, realization settling in and his hand presses her closer to him, steadying her and protecting her. He kisses her forehead gently.

“Hera,” his voice is warm and sincere and she loves the way her name sounds in his mouth, “you could wear anything at all or nothing at all. I don’t care about the trimmings so much as I care about the woman in them. This was, ah,” he pauses, “I mean I can’t lie, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way you looked in… this.” and he waves his wrist where her underwear is still looped to demonstrate his meaning. “But you should never, ever put yourself in a situation that doesn’t feel right to you on my behalf.”

“I wouldn’t have done it for anyone else,” she admits. “I wanted to surprise you.” 

“Oh,” he laughs, and Hera can feel it reverberate in his chest from her spot in his lap, “I… I was surprised.”

“I did it because I _trust_ you,” Hera says, and catches her mouth with his in a sweet kiss. “And because I love sharing this part of me with you.” 

Kanan’s blue-green eyes search hers for a moment and he opens his mouth as if to say something, but instead folds her close against his body again, his arms wrapped fiercely around her and one hand resting gently at the back of her neck. Hera sighs against him, settling into his embrace. 

“Next time, I’ll leave you in charge of the supply lists and _you_ can surprise _me_.” she smiles, and closes her eyes in his warm embrace. He chuckles, and rubs her back soothingly.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a part of Kanera Week 2020, Day 4 Prompt "Trust/Vulnerability" - Hera is so practical, that I think something like this would push her way out of her comfort zone and Kanan definitely wouldn't take that lightly. Sex between these two is rooted so, so deeply in trust and they both have their obstacles to overcome in the early days. 
> 
> I'm agent-aurelie on tumblr, and I'm happy to yell about SWR & Kanera. Sometimes I take prompts, but mostly I just yell.


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